


In the Spirit of Eggnog

by SomeoneAsGoodAsYou (the_wanlorn)



Series: An Advent-ure in Christmas Spirit [7]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar, F/M, Introspection?, Pining, Sleepovers, Sort Of, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 20:58:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17009094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wanlorn/pseuds/SomeoneAsGoodAsYou
Summary: Trixie is at a sleepover, so Chloe and Lucifer have a sleepover too.





	In the Spirit of Eggnog

**Author's Note:**

> Guys it is my _birthday_. I continue to grow more and more elderly each year. Since my day has been great, I'm posting fic for y'all to read, because I am benevolent (and so modest!!) like that.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this even though (spoiler alert) it's not that kind of sleepover.

As Chloe rode the elevator up to the penthouse, she could hear the harsh, angry notes of the song Lucifer was playing on his piano from floors away. A frown crossed her face as she wondered if she should go back downstairs and leave him to vent his frustrations alone. She didn't even know what he was so frustrated about — he had seemed fine when they were working earlier in the day — but her instinct lately had been to give him space when he was angry.

Or maybe he just liked the sound of what he was playing; she didn't know.

In some ways, knowing that he was the Devil hadn't done anything to clear up the mystery that could be Lucifer Morningstar. He was such a mercurial bastard sometimes, and while she would have thought knowing he was the Devil would give her some answers, it just raised more questions. There was so much she just didn't know about him, and unlike before when it was thirty-odd years of life she thought she didn't know... Now it was eons. Millenia. Longer than humans had been in existence. She would need lifetimes to learn all there was to learn about him, and she didn't have that.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. She could see Lucifer's back as she moved through the room, his shoulders a tight line even as the music flowed from his fingertips. If he didn't look so stressed, if it wasn't such angry classical music, she might have stopped to listen for a bit. Instead, as she came up beside him, she put her hand on his shoulder and his hands stilled.

"I didn't realize you were coming over today, Detective," he said, focused on the piano in front of him instead of on her.

She would have offered to leave then and there, but he sounded... She wasn't sure if she could place the emotion, just that it wasn't a happy one. And his shoulders were loosening under her touch, so the unhappiness couldn't be directed at her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, trying to think back on the case they had worked on that day — an open-and-shut homicide — that might have upset him and came up blank.

"Of course," he said to his piano, and she squeezed his shoulder gently, putting barely any pressure on it but hopefully enough to let him know that he could talk to her if he needed to.

He reached up one of his hands to cover hers, a warm weight that had her tightening her grip just the tiniest amount, just enough to tell him that she wasn't leaving or letting go. That he could keep her there as long as he wanted. At least, until it was time to pick up Trixie from her sleepover in the morning, then she would have to go.

"I thought..." he started and paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "I thought perhaps since Beatrice was at a sleepover you would..."

"Would come here to see if you had any eggnog and wanted to get drunk tonight?" she asked lightly, not liking where his thoughts seemed to be headed. "You're right, I did."

At this, he turned his head to look at her, his breath ghosting across their hands in a way that had a shiver running down her spine. His eyes were bright in the glow of the Christmas tree lights. "Eggnog? Really?"

"Really," she said. "It's a Christmas tradition, isn't it?"

He smiled at her, his smile slowly turning into a grin as she smiled back. "Let me just pop down to the bar and see if Patrick has any. I think a case came in last week."

He seemed to let his hand drop with reluctance, and she definitely let go of his shoulder and stepped back with reluctance. He was warm, and there was something... comforting about standing there with him, connected like that.

"Make yourself comfortable, darling," he called back to her as he strode over to the elevator. "I'll be just a tick."

She smiled at his retreating back and wandered over to one of the couches that had a good view of the tree, making herself comfortable, tucked into the corner of it. The lights sparkled in front of her, a mix of multicolored lights and white lights, the ornaments she and Trixie had gifted him front and center, and the devil tree topper on top. It warmed her heart to see that neither of Trixie's creations had been hidden on the back of the tree where they wouldn't be seen on his otherwise fairly elegant display.

She turned in her seat when the elevator dinged and was greeted by the sight of a grinning Lucifer carrying two tumblers and a bottle of eggnog. It was a fairly expensive brand if she was deciphering the label right, and she almost told him that never mind, they could drink something cheaper, but... There was really nothing cheaper around. Only the best for Lucifer Morningstar. Sometimes, the thought made her sad, and then he would do something like clearly find some dinky little thing she got him important, and it was just...

He hesitated a moment before crossing the space to her, and she wanted to stop him and say, "That, that right there! Why did you do that?" There were times when she thought he might love her too, that perhaps her love wasn't as one-sided as she thought, like before when he'd covered her hand with his, or every time she took his hand and he tangled their fingers together instead of pulling away. Then he would do something like hesitate before approaching her — or offer free drinks to a beautiful woman, and she tried not to be jealous or think about how much she couldn't measure up, but there was a tiny, mean part of her that was — and she was set adrift again, wondering what he was thinking and what he was doing.

It was like a gulf of eons separated them, and while sometimes she thought she was close to the other side, she couldn't figure out how to make that last jump.

"I hope you got something good," she said, as he came around the couch, a smile on her face.

"Only the best for you, darling," he said with far too much seriousness for her to be able to intelligently respond.

He poured her a drink and took a shaker of what she assumed was nutmeg out of his pocket and sprinkled some on top before handing the drink to her. She took a sip. Perfect.

"Delicious," she said, and he smiled at her, so openly pleased that for a moment her heart ached for him. Then he sat on the far end of the couch from her and the ache turned into a different sort of pain.

Two hours later and they had finished off the bottle of eggnog and Lucifer was drinking whiskey while she enjoyed her quiet buzz. Somehow, they had migrated closer together until there was barely a foot of couch separating them. Lucifer's arms were stretched along the back of it, her head occasionally knocking against one when she forgot to keep sitting up.

"-and that's why Trixie's no longer allowed to own gel pens," she finished with, grinning at his laughter.

He got up to get another glass of whiskey and stumbled a little, not quite steady on his feet. "My dear Detective," he said, and she tried valiantly not to warm at his words but failed miserably "-I do believe I'm sloshed."

"Mm, a little," she said, and the grin he shot her was like the sun: she had to look away for her own safety. If she didn't, she was going to say something she would regret when she was sober.

When he collapsed again next to her, his free arm going up on the back of the couch behind her head, she didn't think anything of tipping slightly until she was nestled against his side, almost missing the way he froze when she did. She was about to sit back up and apologize — her reflexes were a little slow; maybe "buzz" had been the wrong word to describe her level of drunkenness — but before she could, his arm came tentatively down around her shoulders and they were sitting together, snuggled in front of the Christmas tree, and she was...

She was happy.

This was what life could be like for them, if only... This was what life could be like. She wondered if she should jump him while they both had lowered inhibitions, and fuck the consequences.

Heh. Fuck the consequences, like Lucifer would fuck her. She giggled a little, drawing his attention.

"What's so funny there?" he asked, his fingers tapping on her shoulder where his arm was wrapped around her.

"Fuck the consequences," she said, giggling again. If she turned her head just a little, she could kiss him. They'd kissed before, but it had never gone anywhere, and she was fairly certain that if she kissed him now, it _would_.

"Why, is that an invitation?" he asked, smirking at her. But his eyes, his eyes didn't look like his heart was in it. Instead of expressing her disappointment, she just laughed again and leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing a little. He wouldn't've taken her up on it anyway. The last (and only) time she had thrown herself at him while drunk, he had rebuffed her. This time wouldn't be any different.

He rested his cheek on top of her head, distracting her from her thoughts. It felt... so _right_ to be there with him. If they were drunk enough, she could have slipped out from under him, leaned up and kissed him. It seemed like a good idea now, but she knew with a shocking amount of clarity that when he let her down easy she would regret ever coming over.

She never wanted to regret seeing him.

"I should go," she said after a few minutes had passed, and his fingers tightened on her shoulder again before he sat up, releasing her.

"I- I do have a guestroom," he said, not looking at her. "It would save you the cost of an Uber."

She didn't have to consider it for more than a moment before she was saying, "Oh, that would be great. Thank you."

He looked so... She wanted to kiss him more than anything in that moment. She wanted to memorize the light in his eyes and the soft smile on his face and the way he sometimes made her feel like she was the only person in the world. He must have had a lot of practice at doing that, because he was _good_ at it.

Instead, she stood, only a little wobbly, and he pointed her to the guestroom and the ensuite, and said goodnight. After she had cleaned up and slipped under the covers, she couldn't help but to touch her lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss him with whiskey on his breath and the buzz of alcohol in her system.

She fell asleep while she was picturing the way his eyes would flutter open after she pulled away and stare at her, once again making her feel like she was the only person in the world. She could only hope it would lead to good dreams.

THE END


End file.
